


Candle

by thepeopleofvictory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lexa Dies, Writer!Lexa, artist!Clarke, because im not that mean, but im warning you, i think, jake isn't dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6755227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeopleofvictory/pseuds/thepeopleofvictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is a candle's flame and what burns are the minutes we live.</p>
<p>Or, how Clarke hopes and begs and prays but time slips by her wet fingers, the same way Lexa slips away with each pain encrusted breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched a short film the other day, 'Candle' and it was really thought invoking? But anyway, this fic is inspired by that short film. 
> 
> Also! The book Clarke and Lexa talks about throughout the fic is literally called 'Candle' because i like that name and its just the1OO/canon clexa in a nutshell, with slight changes - the commander doesn't die from a stupid gunshot cos that's dumb and useless, instead she dies in some heroic fight to protect the sky princess? it's heroic and sad and i would much rather cry over that than her death from a bullet??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a mess. I had no idea where I was going, so bear with me. It may get better? :/

She is introduced to Lexa as a means to an end.

Octavia had gotten sick of Clarke's despondent complains, and produced her number with a flourish.

"Look, Clarke, try Lincoln's cousin," she sighed, "I used to work with her. Brilliant mind, amazing writing. She should be able to help you out of this hellhole. She's really nice, just give her a text."

And so Clarke did, rambling on about how she needed help desperately, needed someone who could help her with her latest project, someone who could weave words and bring them to life.

But Lexa was curt. She didn't write anymore. She was sorry, but she couldn't help Clarke.

It was alright, really. Clarke was disappointed, slightly embarrassed, but she accepted it.

\--

 **Lexa:** I'm really sorry that I can't help you. Didn't mean to waste your time.

 **Clarke:** It's alright :) Time is a candle's flame and what burns are the minutes we live.

 **Lexa:** Is that from 'Candle'?

 _And of course Lexa called her out for stealing a line from a book_.

Lexa is intriguing.

Despite the initial curtness and awkward tension, they continued texting. Every new message sparked a slight flutter, warmed her heart.

\--

Her first mistake is accepting Raven's bet - that she could take Lexa out by Valentine's day.

She tries to ask Lexa out in the lamest way possible.

 **Clarke:** so...

 **Lexa:** Yes?

 **Clarke:** Roses are red, bananas are yellow, wanna go out with a nice little fellow? ;)

 **Lexa:** That was so bad... but...

 **Clarke:** but?

 **Lexa:** But it was cute.

 **Clarke:** You are cute too, according to O. And I'll be able to testify for that if you would be willing to grab a coffee with me?

_Lexa rejected her._

But it was alright, she could try again. After all, (despite the weird rules Lexa came up with), they are still friends.

Lexa’s rules:

  1. No calling.
  2. You will not attempt to ask me out again.
  3. We cannot be more than friends.



\--

Once, when she casually stated that she was re-reading  _Candle_ , they ended up arguing over the decision of the characters. 

 **Clarke:** I really don't get why the commander had to leave her lover at the mountain. I mean, they could have gone through it together?

 **Lexa:** She had to do it for her people. Head over heart, Clarke. It even made the ending better. 

 **Clarke:** tell me, how?? so that she can die heroically and 'let her go'? im still standing by the fact that they could have done it together :(

 **Lexa:** Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for the greater good.

Clarke didn't reply that night, her heart felt torn and she felt sorrow, and Lexa didn't push. 

\--

One night, when the moon hides behind misty clouds and Clarke’s chest feels strangely empty, she breaks Lexa’s first rule. The voice that picked up is tentative and hoarse, and her voice is everything that Clarke dreamed of, and more.

Lexa was rightfully annoyed, but Clarke was overjoyed.

The first rule is soon forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea why the beginning is always the hardest to write. if you survived the first chapter (and this one too), i am proud of you. I think the fluff has disappeared. or maybe it never was there in the first place

Clarke breaks Lexa’s second rule weeks later. In fact, she goes further than breaking Lexa’s second rule.

Spending hours hounding Octavia's hunk of a boyfriend, she is given Lexa's address, with nothing more than "Treat her right, Griffin. Don't you dare hurt her more than she already is."

Their first encounter is surprising and horrifying and yet it is perfect. With clammy hands she rings the doorbell, and hears heavy footsteps - in time with her pounding heart. Her mouth is dry and Clarke is  _anxious_. 

"Did you forget your keys again, An-" Lexa looks frail, her back is hunched and her eyes are bloodshot, but green pierces through and her presence is commanding. Lexa looks perfect. They stand, rigid, awkward, before Lexa breaks the silence by offering her in. She leads Clarke through the hallway into Lexa's room, and for a second Clarke is overwhelmed. The room is overflowing with books, bits and pieces of Lexa's history drape and surround them.

The explanation is long, and heart-wrenching. Lexa is soft and she is strength. Lexa is weak and she is hard. And Clarke is pulled everywhere. She doesn't know what to do. 

And so Clarke gathers Lexa in her hands and kisses her. She tastes of metal and rain and peace. She tastes of death and life and love. And Clarke has never fought harder to stop her tears.  

_Her second mistake is falling even harder for the brunette._

Later that night, between hacking coughs and blood-stained lips, Lexa paints a tale of a love long lost. She talks about Costia and she talks about the past. 

And Clarke listens. 

She ignores the weak fluttering under the pads of her fingers and listens. Clarke listens and she understands. 

Because time is burning up the way a flame eats away at a candle, and Clarke is being consumed by Lexa and all that she is worth. Yet, nobody masters time, not even death. 

Lexa is sick and Clarke can't do more than watch helplessly. 

\--

They chase the days, hiding in Lexa's apartment. 

Lexa can't leave the house for dates, and so Clarke brings the dates to her. She lugs in picnic baskets, projectors, speakers, everything, and Lexa conjures up paradise with her words. The candles flicker, light licks at the walls, casting shadows against Lexa's pale face. And Lexa looks perfect. 

“I like the idea that somewhere, somebody is made for us. Maybe we're made for each other.”

“Clarke, you know that isn’t true,” Lexa murmurs, her slender finger tenderly tracing Clarke’s jaw.

The bed is warm under them, and Clarke blinks back tears, her voice hoarse, “I feel like you’re made for me.” The silence that follows is heavy. Lexa is staring at her so openly that Clarke's soul feels as though it is twisting. 

She easily breaks Lexa's third rule. They are soulmates, and she can feel it from her core. She can feel it when Lexa presses gentle kisses along her sides. She can feel it when she traces Lexa's form with her hands. She can feel it at night, when Lexa's shallow breaths tickles the base of her neck.

She can feel it in the air that envelopes them. With every stutter of Lexa's heart, their bond grows. 

\--

She meets Anya, Lexa's sister when she drops by for a quick visit when Lexa is asleep, and Clarke sees tough layers peeling and scabbing, exposing tired smiles and fake strength. Anya isn't one for many words, but she puts her message across perfectly well. Hurt Lexa and she'll pay. Yet Anya tugs her into a loose hug. The gratitude is silent, and Clarke sees utter adoration reflected in Anya's eyes. The moment passes quickly and Anya straightens, her mask is back on, strong and ready for anything. 

In that second Clarke notices the slowly extinguishing flame burning in them all, and how Lexa is the candle that supplies the fuel.

She meets up with her parents more frequently than ever before. She begs Abby for the help her mother willingly supplies, and despite Lexa's stubborn nature, she is transferred to be under Abby's care. Check-ups are awkward and painful, and they brave through it all. She breaks down in front of Jake, the cuts coating her are so deep her worries and desperation seep through each wound. Her tears stop being salty. Instead they taste of the wax that drip from Lexa's dying candles. 

She meets her friends' worried eyes with blank stares and stiff smiles. Lincoln pulls her aside to fret and worry - his cousin is rotting away and Clarke is following her with every step, so willingly she may have become death herself. They look to her as though she may shatter and with each shard, provide the answer to the universe, and Clarke plays along. She begins accepting tips and advice and condolences with a hint of a flinch. She laughs too loud sometimes, glares too hard at some people, cries too much on some days. 

She doesn't remember a life better led before meeting Lexa. But she doesn't remember a life worse than meeting Lexa.

\--

She never finds out about the mystery illness that plagues Lexa, never managing to piece together enough symptoms for a conclusion.

And nobody has the heart to tell her - that she knows the exact name, because she _did_ study medicine, _she did pour herself into researching this incurable disease_ , yet doesn’t want to admit it. She ignores them. She ignores it all.

Clarke ignores how Lexa is slipping away.

She holds Lexa closer every chance she gets, rubs her love into protruding ribs and purple splotches along her spine. She looks past the shadows under Lexa’s eyes and glaze over the red that trickles down her throat. 

She tells Lexa how beautiful she is, at ungodly hours, in the bathroom, holding her hair as bile splatters on the toilet floor. She memorises each feature as Lexa forces down endless pills and tablets, her own throat hurting and clenching.

Some nights she contemplates ending it all, has the urge to leave, or kill, or fight - when Lexa clings tight and painful to her, begging for her life to be over in between choked gasps and streaming tears. When Lexa shudders and spasms, wracked with agony. When Lexa smiles, cracked lips and tight eyes flooding with exhaustion. When needle marks scarring Lexa's tender skin begin to overlap and gore coats each scar. Their bed is stained, her fingers are stained. She is stained.

But she is selfish. She wants more of Lexa, all of Lexa. And so Clarke ignores the urge. 

She ignores the ugly truth.

Because despite it all, Lexa will be the goddess she prays to every night. 

She loves Lexa with all that she has, even though she knows it is not enough. Even though she knows that the end will be of her shattered heart, of her drowning lungs and of her empty hands. The end will be of a life without her love. 

And Clarke thinks that, maybe it doesn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay evidently i have no idea what's going on haha my storyline is everywhere. my brain is everywhere argh  
> hit me up @tltkru because i kinda dk where this is leading lol


End file.
